10/15/2026
Dear Robert,
It’s me, Change. The only constant thing in your life.
I see you staring at your baby photo. Nubia keeps showing it to people, insisting Helena looks like her. Deep down she knows Baby Helena is a replica of you.
You’ve been teaching people that a story is simple: things were one way, something happened, and here’s how it changed. You’ve made it all about me. Are you trying to suck up to me?
Your doctor drove in from vacation with a boat trailing her. You asked last minute if you could record, and she said yes. Nubia says she looked awful that night. You remember thinking mothers are warriors and nurses are the field medics who make it all possible.
Maria Fatima flew in from Brazil with no sleep and stayed up with you. There is nothing like a mother’s love. I wish your mother were here to see this.
Here’s the truth. Helena didn’t explode your heart on night one. On day 2 she looked like an old man, Nubia was exhausted, and you just existed. You wondered if the love would ever come.
Then on day 4, the nurse asked you to buckle her into the car seat.
The belt went click.
Your heart swelled. Your eyes filled. Best moment of your life.
Change means letting go of the person you were for the person you’re becoming. Don’t be afraid of me. Work with me, talk to me, lean on me. People wake up one day and not the next, and sometimes that I love you will be your last.
She’ll change you slowly, quickly, and all at once. Soon she’ll lift her head, babble, crawl, walk, listen to terrible pop music, and fall in love. So embrace today. I’ll be back tomorrow to change things again.
Your friend,
Change
that's me in 1983.
Helena Xavier Fogarty. First photo by her dad.
First Touch
Maria de Fatima making a ponytail for Nubia.
Nubia & Helena.
Helena's first bath.
Nubia & Helena, first day at home.